Page 122 of Under Restless Skies

He then turns to me. “Since I last spoke to you, has your opinion changed?”

“Why would it have changed, Alayel?” I ask between gritted teeth.

“I need to know.” That beseeching, sweet look again. “So nothing changed? At all?”

“Nothing changed.” I can’t even hide the annoyance in my voice.

“Good to know.” He gives me that satisfied smirk, then walks away.

How did I ever find that smirk attractive? Well, it is aesthetically pleasing, I suppose.

Once he’s far, Celine asks, “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

Nelly watches him as he walks away. “He’s trying to win you back, Mayara.”

I huff. “I’m not so sure.”

She tilts her head. “It’s quite obvious. And the prince’s protection could save your skin. I wouldn’t throw it away.”

I see her point, but I disagree. “We’re celebrating Cardiana, and I want to believe that I’ll have the love I want.”

“That’s fair.” Despite her words, Nelly doesn’t sound convinced.

From a practical standpoint, maybe I’m not being reasonable. A prince’s mistress would have some protection, and when we’re in a place where we might have to risk our lives at any moment, it could make a difference. Still, I don’t want that.

I won’t be someone’s other woman. I won’t be someone’s secret lover. I won’t. I’d rather die single—or die soon, if it comes to that.

As thunder cracks outside, the king enters the room through the side door leading to his reserved area, where he sits on an elevated throne. The oldest princess follows him, and Alayel joins them.

Princess Ledeia looks ahead, her face impassive, except when she glances at a corner, her eyes softening for a second. I follow her gaze, and see Marcus, dashing in a burgundy suit. Our eyes meet, and he nods, a friendly smile on his face, which I return. Oddly, I don’t resent him for falling in love with someone else, don’t even wish we could get back together. We were both different people when we fell in love. Versions of ourselves that don’t exist anymore. All that remains are sweet memories, tucked deep within my chest.

Celine, Nelly, and I eat some more, then we find some seats at a corner, from where we observe the festivities.

The thunder calms down, and the band starts to play a tune on their string instruments. Alayel leaves his secluded area and walks straight to me, eyes focused. My body trembles, and I don’t even know why. Puzzlement, perhaps. I can’t imagine what he’s about to do, but I sincerely hope he’s not about to expel me from the academy.

“A dance, please?” He extends a hand when he’s close to me, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear him.

All eyes in the room turn to us, and the attention makes me feel awkward. Not only that, at this point, it would be impolite to refuse him.

“Nobody’s dancing yet,” I mutter.

“We’ll be the first.”

His gloved hand is still extended, so close, so far, so tempting, so foul.

20

The king’s watching us from his seated area, and even Ledeia eyes me with interest, so I have no choice but to take Alayel’s hand.

Even with the gloves, his palm feels warm, soft, familiar, and I hate the comforting feeling shooting up my arm straight into my heart.

He walks me to the center of the room, and then guards clear out a circle around us, as the music gets louder. It’s a slow, romantic melody, the kind usually played in Cardiana’s festivities.

When Alayel wraps his hands around my waist, my anger at him, my revulsion at his offer to keep me as his secret lover have a hard time arguing against the thrill of desire coursing through my body. His touch awakens memories of our moments together, ignites something inside me—and I wish I could step away from my body and not feel anything. Wish I could remove the traces of his touch etched on my skin. Still, I can’t walk away. Not here, with everyone watching.

To make things worse, his face gets close to mine, his lips close to my ear, sending a shiver through my body.